And Baby Makes Six. Linda Markowiak

whisper, like a slow fall into dusk on a hot summer night. But her words were fighting words, and he respected that. “I wouldn’t have expected anything else, Miss Jennifer Litton.”

      JENNY LITTON HAD BEEN true to her word, talking with Crystal, hugging her, reassuring her. If she resented Mitch, she didn’t show it in front of the girl.

      When they were finally on the plane, Mitch let out a long breath of relief. So far, so good. There had been one bad moment when Crystal had discovered that her cat had to ride in the cargo area. But there’d been no crying from the little girl, which would have been bad, because then Jenny would have looked at him in that prissy, judgmental way.

      But he didn’t like how quiet Crystal was now as she looked out the window of the plane. His kids always crowded around, making jokes about how small the cars down below looked, and talked loudly and happily about the prospect of aircraft trouble. This kid just sat there.

      “Can you see the clouds?” he asked.

      She didn’t answer. She didn’t even shrug.

      “The trees looked real green when we took off. All pines, like Christmas trees, and now we’re so high we can’t see them at all.”

      Nothing. Her head was turned away; he couldn’t read her expression.

      O-kay. He was getting a little desperate when he had a sudden thought. “I’ll buy you a dog.”

      She turned to him. “A dog of my own?”

      “Sure.” Although he was elated that she’d spoken at last, he groaned inside. Another dog. Yeah, that was sure an inducement to get a housekeeper to stay more than a week.

      Crystal said, “When you get me my dog, I want one of those with a ball of fur on its head and little balls on her ankles.”

      That stumped Mitch for a second. Then he said, “A poodle?”

      She wrinkled her nose, thinking. “Yeah, a poodle. A white one, one of those little ones. The real tiny kind.”

      “Ah, honey? I think you might want a bigger kind of dog. Our house is sort of rowdy—”

      She got a fierce frown on her face, and he stopped.

      An awkward silence fell. Mitch searched desperately for things to say. She’d put on a pair of jeans, and sneakers had replaced the sandals in preparation for the colder Ohio weather. But even in these clothes she seemed small and frail.

      They traveled in silence, and by the time they landed, Mitch felt so uncomfortable his throat ached. Maybe he should have left her with Jenny Litton.

      No! He’d make this work, he wouldn’t take the easy way. Never again. He’d promised Anne he’d take care of everyone, and that meant taking care of them all.

      Luke had used Mitch’s Jeep to take his brothers home from the airport. So Mitch rented a car for the short ride. As they climbed the hill to his house, he said, “There’s where you’re going to live.”

      He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and he saw her bite her lip.

      “It’s big.”

      He didn’t know if that was good or bad in the eyes of this kid. The old, rambling farmhouse, white with green shutters, had seen many additions by the time he and Anne purchased it. The land hadn’t been farmed in years, and had been seeded to grass. Behind, out of view, was the pond where he’d learned to skate as a kid. If you stood in the backyard and looked across the pond, you could see the small house where he and Kathy had grown up.

      In the front, the yard sloped down to a huge old red barn that he’d had converted into a garage and stable, with a new tack room attached to it. In the pasture were the kids’ ponies.

      Crystal said, “Those are your horses?”

      Thank God for animals, Mitch thought. “They’re not horses. They’re the ponies I told you about. I can teach you to ride them.”

      “No thank you,” she said in that southern drawl. “They look too big.”

      “Maybe when you get used to them—”

      “They’re too big.”

      “Okay,” he said quickly.

      As they pulled into the driveway, the boys spilled out of the house. Jason was first, eleven, with dark hair like Mitch, an anomaly in that he was small and wiry in a family of big men. Behind him were the fifteen-year-old twins, Ryan and Tommy. The twins were blonder, like their mother had been. The oldest, Luke, was dark, too.

      Jason jogged up to the car, Ryan right behind him.

      Crystal scrunched up in the seat.

      Mitch reached over to ruffle her hair and stopped at the last minute. He settled for a pat on the shoulder.

      “They’re big,” Crystal said. Tommy and Luke, who was big by anybody’s standards, had followed Jason and Ryan. All four boys came to a halt in front of the car. There was some shoving as they peered into the car. Without looking, Ryan reached behind him and put an elbow in Tommy’s gut. Then Ryan tried to push Jason aside. Crystal scrunched up even farther.

      Mitch sighed. At least there was no sign of Face-off.

      He touched his niece’s arm again. “They’re nice boys, once you get to know them.”

      “I don’t like boys.”

      “I live here, honey. We can sit in this car for a while, but sooner or later you’ve got to get out and meet your cousins.” At that moment, Jules let out a mew from her cat carrier in the back seat. “Jules needs to get out of that carrier and explore. It’s not good for a cat to be locked up too long.”

      Crystal bit her lower lip and nodded. Then she reached around and pulled the carrier toward her. She got the little wire door open and scooped the cat into her arms. “Okay. I’m ready.”

      “It’s going to be fine.” Mitch reached over to her side and flipped her door handle open.

      He got out of his own side of the car as Crystal opened the passenger door. “Listen, guys,” he said to his sons. “Give the kid a break. No roughhousing for a minute, you hear?”

      “Sure, Dad.” As usual, Luke, his oldest, was quick to size up the situation. He said to his brothers, “Now shut up and make nice for your cousin.”

      Crystal slowly got out.

      Jason said, “You don’t look like Dad.”

      Ryan said, “Uh, hi.”

      Tommy said, “A cat.”

      And Luke, bless him, said, “It’s going to be okay. We’re not as bad as we sound.” He gave Crystal his million-watt smile, the one that always worked on the girls of North Shore, Ohio. It apparently impressed eight-year-old girls, too, because Crystal took a tentative step toward him.

      Just then the front door exploded and a blur of black came blasting out. Face-off ran toward them at breakneck speed, ninety-five pounds of fur and mutt, barking like the beast he was.

      Crystal screamed.

      Jules sprang from her arms.

      Face-off headed straight for the little girl. As she cowered and screamed, the dog caught sight of the kitten and veered.

      Jules tore off across the lawn, Face-off at her heels.

      “Shit,” Mitch muttered, hampered for a moment by the fact that he was still on the far side of the car. “Get that dog!” he shouted.

      Luke had already begun the pursuit. Jules made a dizzying circle around the huge lawn, followed by dog and four boys. Around and around, faster and faster, Face-off barking his head off, Luke and Mitch shouting, the other boys yelling in glee, Crystal standing by the car screaming, a shrill, high wail that went on and on.

      Mitch veered right,